ain and laying his little hand on the
prematurely gray hair of the disheartened sage said, with all the sweet
charm peculiar to a child when it speaks to comfort one who is its
natural guardian and support:

"Father, little Zeno brings you a rose. It comes from the churchyard.
Mamma sent it to you with her love."

The doctor, deeply touched, sat up suddenly, grasped the child's hand
that held out the rose to him and tried to draw the boy towards him in
order to embrace him. But Zeno, instead of answering the loving words
addressed to him, struggled and cried out sharply, for the strong
pressure of his father's hand had driven a big thorn into his finger, and
the blood from the wound was running down onto his light blue dress.

The doctor was distracted. He had hurt the one creature for whose future
greatness he had sacrificed his waning strength.

There flowed the blood of his son who had come as messenger from his wife
On her he had lavished the one great love of his life and the white rose
that she had sent him lay at his feet!

As his gaze fell upon the flower that she had loved better than all
others, and then rested upon the crying child, a great tenderness filled
his soul and for the first time he felt deep remorse that he had not
dedicated his whole life to his love. To devote the remainder of his time
on earth, which he felt would be but short, to the child who stood there
crying, seemed to him at that moment his holiest duty; yet the passion of
the investigator within him could not be subdued, for as he looked about
in search of a cloth to stanch the blood that flowed from the boy's
finger his eyes fell upon the bottle of elixir on the table, and then on
the rose at his feet and the thought flashed across him that Bianca who
had sent him the rose might have indicated to him by the hand of their
offspring the substance which he needed to achieve the object of his
life.

Of every element found in water or in air, in the earth or fire, he had
added a portion to the elixir, save only the blood of a child.

Breathless he caught the hand of his son and held it over the phial,
speaking coaxingly to him while drop after drop of the red life blood
trickled into the elixir.

Then he put the child in Frau Schimmel's arms and hurried into the
laboratory as fast as his tired feet could carry him. There he blew the
bellows so violently that the housekeeper looked at him with silent
indignation. When all was prepared